Thursday, August 27, 2009

I mean to have it; even if it must be burglary

Now this aroused me from my afternoon torpor.

Ah, memories, and none of them mine.

I think i'll raise a toast in honour. Something even the wankers in the street wouldn't drink.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Hildebrandts!

Oh, my: there’s more to this Hildebrandt thing than first meets the eye. Sometime in the northern summer of 1904 (yes, kiddies, happier times - the signing of the Entente Cordiale) Karl Hildebrand set off to walk around the world.

Why?

Well, it could have been because this was the olden days, and most everyone back then was seriously fucking lulu, or;

He was “sent by a committee in London, the members of which were anxious to find out whether a man can possibly accomplish the tour on foot around the world without asking for any help on the way.”

People, I wouldn’t make this shit up. Well, I would, but I’d cough to it if I did.

On reflection, I think reasons 1 and 2 apply.

Seven and a half years later, he had reached Jerusalem. OK so far, except by then he had been across Europe, Africa and America. America? Between London and Jerusalem? How do you get that fucking lost? Karl, mate, you should have asked for help on the way. Your stupid fucking pride cost you three years of your life and an unnecessary side trip to the U.S. Particularly unfortunate as at that time it was mandatory, under the Ninth Amendment, that any person entering the United States allow the president teabagging rights.

















That’s not all: Karl Hildebrand had two masters. He was also reporting back to the German Labour party (remember them?) “with descriptions of foreign labour conditions as to housing, pay, and hours.”

Don’t laugh, you bastards; two of his fourteen companions had died by the time they reached the big J. According to the account I read, this was from “their strenuous pedestrianism and the hardships they encountered.” I say it was more likely they reached a level of boredom where self-inflicted death was a gratifying alternative to Hildebrand’s endless recital of how much Nigerian workers were paid, how many hours Canadian abattoir workers put in each week and how small were the houses in Liechtenstein.

Little more than a century later, two of his great-great-great-great grandchildren are marrying each other.

Now, I’m prepared to call it: CONSPIRACY